From Dusk to Eternity
by Knightmaremist
Summary: Seth Gecko and a Mary Sue-type Gretchen encounter some unwelcomed guests in an El Ray bar. But Gretch also has a secret of her own.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
  
Mexico. El Ray. The sound of cheesy salsa guitar. The smell of whiskey, leather, burnt cigarettes, and sweat, mixed with the stench of dried out tortillas and guacamole. A crowd of faceless strangers engaged in the usual bar banter, some quite rowdy. The feel of those lonely and sitting in the corner, drinking themselves into a stupor via a good straight bottle of Margueritaville Tequila. The eyes of desperate men watching with arousal at the wild dancers upon the bar and tables. Sound of billiards being shot and hustlers demanding their pay. Shot glasses clinking. People laughing uproariously. Customers demanding refills, some of them cursing the barkeep in Spanish. Weary and resting truck drivers discussing their travels over a few drinks. Hells Angels cornering the market on the jukebox that played nothing but George Thorogood. They were far away from Delaware and the East Coast.   
  
These were the sounds of a place quite familiar to the wandering fugitive from justice. They were reminiscent of a place he cared not remember, yet could not expunge from his mind. The place had been the Titty Twister. The event in question? The death of his only brother, Richard. It was no normal death either. No, that would have been too merciful for the sinful at heart. Richie had been a rapist, thief, murderer, and con artist. But he was still Seth Gecko's brother, and being so, had deserved a more respectable demise than having a wooden stake driven through his heart because he'd become a vampire. What was worse yet is that Seth himself had to deliver the driving blow, while Sex Machine and the Black dude had held him down. Then of course there was the whole deal with Jacob, Scott, and Kate. Kate and Seth were the only ones to have made it out of there alive. Kate went... God knows where, to a home with no family, for she'd lost her preacher father and her only step-brother in that awful place, on that miserably fateful night... the night the whole bar had turned Nos Feratu... the undead.  
  
The infamous Gecko brothers were no more. It was only Seth now. He had nobody to look after, and he preferred it that way. Carlos and he still palled around a bit, like in the old days, but they never dared speak of what had happened at the Titty Twister. Seth had mostly been alone these past years, basically blending in with the locals down there and keeping a low profile. He was a wanted man back in the States. He had managed to dodge the feds all this time. He was well off financially, for he'd lifted quite a bit of dough before crossing the border. Seth didn't miss the States all that terribly; his home was where he made it, and most of the time, that was on the road. Time had been very good to Seth, as a matter of fact. He'd still retained his youthful glow after these seeming eons, still sported the black dragon tat that rested faithfully upon his back, parts of it extending upward and reaching around his neck. He had most of his hair, and it was still dark as the night. But his eyes no longer carried the same goal-driven venom that they once had. No, he'd mellowed out considerably. He had no choice. It was either brew and stew over what had happened and eventually end up on the funny farm, or just muddle through and deal with it. He'd chosen the latter. He was indeed a trooper.  
  
Seth still harbored that sweet taste for sour whiskey on the rocks. He'd become a hard drinker recently. It was only because Richie was no longer around, that Seth had been able to keep his identity on the down low. Richie had always gotten him into trouble, whether it was raping and shooting the hostage, or whining about his eyeglass prescription, or some other damn thing. Richie was, had been, a natural trouble maker. Seth had grown quite tired of always bailing him out, eternally looking after him like a child, turning the other way to his sordid and lurid sexual appetite. Richie had been a true psychopath. But, there were some things in this world more endearing than self-preservation, one of them being the blood shared between brothers. Seth had remained true to that, even within his whacked-out state of beliefs.   
  
Now he'd found himself in some rundown bar quite similar to the Titty Twister. Mexico was famous for them, and pretty much full of them. "One place is as good as another," Carlos had commented casually that dreadful morning, having no clue what had transpired in there overnight. Well, since Carlos had in fact pulled that place out of a hat, Seth's brother was dead. Kate's entire fucking family was dead. Haggle? Bet the farm he was primed for it then, despite the unspoken "law" that gangsters should never barter and bargain once an actual percentage deal had been arranged. But fuck that. Circumstances had drastically changed in the matter of an evening.  
  
Seth was glad he'd ventured to haggle with Carlos. He had had him over a barrel. How does one compensate for the untimely death of a relative? By gangster code, it was with more money... a bigger cut. That had been just fine with Seth.   
  
He stood somewhat aloof at the bar, just downing shots of whiskey like they were water. He was packing, as usual. He sported his usual attire for the warm climate... muscle tank and khakis with leather combat boots, the length of the tattoo stretching down his arm. At times he'd felt it was in fact a huge black beast of a dragon he'd slain that night. Must have been fate that he bore the mark of his brother's killer all over his body. A black dragon known as the race of vampires. And they were so fucking nasty.  
  
They had fought to the bitter end... Jacob, Scott, Kate, Sex Machine, "Blackie", and of course, Seth himself. "I don't believe in vampires, but I believe in what I saw," had been Jacob the preacher's response. He truly had renewed his lost faith and become once more a "mean mother fucking servant of God" out of that experience. Hell, even Seth had come to accept the existence of God. Perhaps that was why he'd mellowed somewhat.   
  
He sighed heavily and sadly as he thought about Richie and the others, in a place so similar to this one. He'd polished off an entire fifth of whiskey. He'd paid no attention whatsoever to the half-naked dancing girls above him on the counter, for he had no interest in a mate, lover, or fuck-buddy. He could, though, have done well with a friend... just somebody to shoot the shit with, somebody who may have understood his experience at the Titty Twister. He couldn't have been the only one who ever made it out of there alive, could he?  
  
He'd grown so lost in thought, sad nostalgia, and self-pity, that he didn't notice the new visitor to the bar, who had taken a place right next to him. It had been the only open space at the counter. The scent was distinctly female... overly feminine, like a bunch of women in fact. Someone foreign had arrived, and whoever they were, they wreaked of women. It was probably some dude who had been carousing around with hookers. Seth didn't bother to look over toward the new arrival. So long as he didn't bother him, Seth wasn't going to start trouble, or even strike up a conversation. That is, until he overheard the stranger's voice. 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
"Deme una Corona allí amigo, ninguna cal por favor," sang the sweet, smooth and sultry, distinctly feminine voice next to Seth. She'd asked for a Corona, no lime. Hard drinker she must have been.  
  
"Algo para tal dama hermosa," replied the bartender. Anything for such a beautiful lady. Seth then knew he at least needed to turn and take a gander, to see if his tastes were all that different from those South of the Border. Then again, the barkeep could have just been playing nice to ensure he'd get a good tip.  
  
Seth turned to his left to view this so-called beautiful dama. Nope. The bartender wasn't sponging for a tip. He had been fairly accurate. She was indeed a beautiful woman... dressed a little butch for his tastes though. She was wearing a cut-off black tee that exposed her navel and prominent silver ring attached. She sported tight black stretch jeans with a silver chain belt round her hips. Rugged high-heeled black snakeskins, several chains around her neck and wrists, and cropped dark hair, obviously dyed black, were all the mark of a tough hombre. Yet, she'd sounded so placid when she's spoken. Weird.  
  
"Obtendré esto, el compañero," Seth suddenly found himself speaking up. He was offering to pay for her drink.   
  
"Gracias," replied the dark and beautiful stranger, turning toward Seth and gracing him with a friendly smile. She had perfect white teeth.   
  
"¿Habla inglés?" Seth asked smoothly, raising his brows. She looked American. She nodded.  
  
"You are American too, I see," she commented cheerfully. Seth nodded and raised his glass to her as the bartender slammed the Corona onto the counter. The woman lifted the bottle to her lips, ignoring the glass that had been set down next to it.  
  
She took a swig, then wiped her luscious, dark lower lip. She turned toward Seth again, looking hopeful, as though she wanted to converse with him. "I'm Gretchen," she stated calmly, extending her hand to shake his.  
  
"Name's Jacob," Seth replied flatly, remembering always to use his alias when meeting new folks. No surprise he'd chosen to take the preacher's name. That man had changed his life in more ways than one. He took her delicate hand and gave it a firm shake.  
  
"Nice meeting you, Jacob," Gretchen admonished sweetly.  
  
"Same here, Gretchen," Seth responded casually. She had the prettiest gray eyes he'd ever seen. They were wide and child-like with fluttering dark lashes. They danced when she smiled. He couldn't help but wonder what such a vision of loveliness was doing in this place.  
  
Gretchen took another swig, and set the bottle down, looking ahead at the mirrors on the wall, all advertising different brands of liquor. She sighed. "I've never been partial to places like this," she commented dryly.  
  
Had she read his mind or something? "Neither have I," he countered. "In fact, the last time I was in a place like this I... lost someone very close to me," he finished, not wanting to let on more than he should.  
  
"What a coincidence. So did I," she replied blankly. "Fucking Titty Twister, that Hell hole," she uttered bitterly under her breath.  
  
Seth's inner antennas immediately began to blare. He choked on his whiskey, almost spitting it across the bar. "I'm sorry. Did you say the Titty Twister?" He asked, incredulous.  
  
She faced him again, a half-smile upon her face. She was faking it. "Yeah, I did," she replied, sadness evident in her voice. She rested her chin in her hands, mulling over the half-empty Corona bottle.  
  
"That was the same place I was talking about!" He exclaimed. He snickered pensively, shaking his head. "Small fucking world."  
  
"At least for vampires," Gretchen remarked with foreboding in her tone.  
  
"They come after you too, huh?" Seth asked rhetorically, for he knew the answer. He then began to wonder just how in the hell a petite dama such as herself had managed to escape, when he barely had, with an arsenal at his disposal, no less.  
  
She took a long swig of her drink, then slammed it down, sighing. "I lost my girlfriend to that pack of hell hounds," she said bitterly, looking straight ahead once again.  
  
Seth turned his whole body to face her this time, resting his elbow upon the bar, looking quite pensive. He cocked a brow. "Girlfriend?" He asked gingerly.  
  
She tossed him an affirmative glance, nodding. "Yeah. I'm a dyke," she offered nonchalantly.  
  
Seth didn't bat an eyelash. "Well, sorry for your loss, Gretchen. I lost my brother to that same pack of beasts. As for your being a dyke, well that's your business. Doesn't mean I'm not going to buy you another drink," he said charmingly.  
  
She chuckled. "Thanks for being liberal," she said, raising her bottle to his glass.  
  
He winked. "Thanks for being human and talking to me," he responded happily. He then did a quick double-take. "You're not a fucking vampire, are you?" He asked with mock anxiety.  
  
She cackled. "No, are you?"   
  
He shook his head vigorously. "Hell fucking no," he stated with conviction. "I killed enough of those godless things to know the world is better off without the likes of them."  
  
"I nailed plenty of them too that night," Gretchen acknowledged solemnly. "The one that bit my woman got some extra special treatment," she added.   
  
"I can imagine," Seth retorted.   
  
"I tried to kill her myself. She'd turned into one of them," she remarked, her voice cracking a bit. "But she was too fast for me, and I lost her... to a world of darkness and flesh-eating."  
  
"Same situation with me. Except I did kill my brother. No choice. Not a very positive tie that binds us, eh?" He queried flatly.  
  
"Not at all," Gretchen affirmed.   
  
"What was her name?" Seth asked gently, pressing a bit. He always had this way of prying without being overbearing.   
  
"Santanico," she responded somberly. "Santanico Pandemonium. At least that was her stage name. She used to dance at that place. God, I loved the hell out of her." Gretchen took one final swig before casting the empty bottle down.  
  
Seth immediately motioned for the barkeep to bring another. He had a feeling this was going to be a long night. Santanico, this woman's so-called beloved paramour, had been the first to take a bite out of Richie that fateful night. She'd done the deed. He had eventually delivered her demise. How would he explain that one?   
  
"What was her real name?" He asked, trying to sound conversational. He did have an endearing quality with people.  
  
"Samara," Gretchen retorted tearfully. "She was my... you know, first... woman I mean. Before that I dated men. One of my ex-boyfriends was called Sex Machine. He and I were good friends with Samara. Then, one night, I don't really know why, I decided to indulge him in his fantasy... give him the both of us. From that point on, I knew that men just didn't cut it for me anymore. I'd fallen in love with her."  
  
This shit was getting wilder by the minute. Sex Machine had been there that night as well, and had died there after turning into a vampire. But he'd been such a help with killing most of the monsters in the bar. Seth figured he could at least mention that. Perhaps it would make her feel better.  
  
"I met your ex," he began casually. "I met him that night. He was a good guy. He died a hero in my book."  
  
"Yeah, somebody told me he was dead. Poor guy. I didn't believe them. I just figured he'd taken off on his Harley somewhere, heartbroken that I'd left him for a woman."  
  
She started drinking her second Corona. "Then, come to find out, Samara died along with most of her kind, around the same time as Sex Man. Weird. Top it off, the bounty I'm looking for was the hero."  
  
Seth almost dropped his shot glass. "Come again?" He asked, quite concerned. Bounty? Oh Lord.  
  
"I'm a hunter for a bondsman. I've been on the move looking for Seth Gecko," she replied coolly.   
  
Now, this time, Seth did spit out his whiskey, right onto the floor. "You're a bounty hunter?" He inquired, trying his best to sound unaffected by her last words.  
  
She nodded, taking another swig.   
  
Seth sighed heavily. This was going to be a long fucking night. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
This was just too insane for words. It must have been a full moon tonight. In fact, come to think of it, it was a full moon. Always could count on that to bring the crazies out of hiding. Crazies, cons, and bounty hunters, it would seem.  
  
"Well, I'll keep my eyes pealed," Seth said casually, hoping for dear life that Gretchen didn't recognize him.  
  
"You do that, Jacob. Rumor has it he came into here tonight. You know what he looks like?" Gretchen asked, not a tone of suspicion in her voice. He could just tell; she was clueless. Good.  
  
"I uh... I know what he used to look like. He's probably in disguise by now," Seth replied bluntly.  
  
"Yeah well, that's what I meant. Do you know what he looks like disguised, because all I have is a 5-year-old sketch of him, and from what I've been told, it isn't a very good likeness." She took another swig of her second Corona for the evening.  
  
Seth shook his head, disbelieving this whole scenario. "He could look like anybody. Hell, he could even look like me," he said cautiously. 'Take the bait. Take the bait,' he was thinking to himself. 'Put yourself in the mix and she won't suspect you.'  
  
Gretchen gave him a deep once-over. She raised her brows and smirked. "Yes, I guess he could. Except, his face in the picture bore a much more vengeful expression. You seem way too kind to be him," she replied off-handedly.  
  
He grinned serenely. "Well, thank you for that. Guess you don't know me very well." He smirked. God, this was actually starting to be amusing. On one hand, Seth felt guilty about being so deceptive with this woman. She too was very kind, it seemed. Then again, he knew he had to protect himself, and Seth was always up for a challenge.   
  
Gretchen giggled. She was getting drunk. Even better. Less on the ball that way. "Well, I know a kind face when I see one," she admonished, lifting her bottle to him. He nodded in concurrence.  
  
"If you say so," he retorted blankly.  
  
Just then, the jukebox was turned off by one of the bar employees, who then headed for the small stage in the corner, taking the mic.  
  
"Guess it's time for the live music?" Gretchen inquired. Seth nodded, looking at his watch.  
  
"Yep, they never miss a beat here, literally," he replied, glancing over at the stage.  
  
The staff member had introduced the band, and with that, the curtain was pulled. Both Seth and Gretchen gasped when they spotted who'd been standing on the other side of that curtain. It was the same fucking band from the Titty Twister! They were the only ones Seth and the gang hadn't killed that night because they disappeared into thin air after giving their captive audience a "fuck you everyone, good night!"  
  
Gretchen latched onto Seth's arm. "Oh my God. We need to bail, and like now!" She said fearfully into his ear.  
  
"I'm with ya on that one. Let's blow," he said warily as the vampire band started to play a hip Mexican salsa tune. Folks got up and started dancing. Oh, little did they know what was going to happen to them! Both Seth and Gretchen began to feel extreme guilt. The customers had no idea. The band members looked like normal Mexican natives. For now, anyway.  
  
"On second thought, Gretch, just be cool for a minute. We run out now, that fucking band and all the other vamps in here are gonna know something's up," Seth warned, giving her arm a squeeze as it was still locked with his. Damned shame she was a dyke. She felt nice against him.   
  
Gretch. Only a few people in her life had ever called her that. She liked it. The Gretch was her favorite brand name electric guitar. Most folks called her Gret for short, but she enjoyed this nice, kind man who'd been through the same hell as her, calling her Gretch. Damned shame he was a man. She really liked him, already.  
  
"You're right, Jake." She replied. Since he'd chosen to call her by a nickname, she felt inclined to do the same. Her way of saying it was all right that he'd called her that.  
  
"Yeah, just kick back, finish your drink. These bastards don't turn unless there's blood shed. So far, we're good." Seth said didactically.  
  
How did this Jacob know so much about these vampires anyway? Very odd indeed. Gretchen continued to take swigs of Corona, pretending to enjoy the music and have a good time. Neither she nor Seth knew just who was and who wasn't a vampire. It was eerie. For all they knew, they could have been the only humans in the bar. She finally let go his arm and he sighed. He'd been enjoying the feel of her skin on his. It surprised him. He hadn't wanted her to let go. He then did something else which surprised him, and her. He reached down and took her hand, clasping it firmly in his. She didn't pull away; she instead pressed a bit, giving him permission. Both of their palms were quite sweaty, out of fear.  
  
Gretchen quickly finished her Corona with her free hand, as Seth guzzled his last shot of whiskey. He threw a 50 down onto the bar in a gesture of generosity, hoping the bartender wouldn't consider him cheap and decide he and Gretchen would be the first meal of the evening. "Come on, let's schmooze on outta here, slowly," Seth warned, eyeing the entire bar suspiciously. Still holding her hand tightly, he guided her away from the counter and onto the dance floor. "We're gonna have to make this look good," he said. "Can you salsa?"  
  
"Could Mitch Williams hit a bull's ass with a banjo?" She countered wittily. Seth laughed. They began to dance about the floor. He was pretty good; she rocked the place. Hell, Gretchen had learned from Santanico. Naturally, she would be a great dancer.   
  
"Now, just keep inching your way towards the door," Seth instructed. Gretchen nodded. But it was easier said than done, for a bar brawl had broken out amidst all the laughter and dancing. Two large men were yelling and shouting, cursing at each other, as one picked up a chair and threw it upon the other. Great, not only was it a full moon, and they were in a bar full of potential vampires; not only was Gretchen the bounty hunter in search of Seth, and not only were they both doubting their seemingly platonic intentions toward each other, but a fight had broken out and they found themselves stuck in a blockade of onlookers. Could it have gotten any worse?  
  
Evidently, it could have... because it did. The two brawlers had struck blood when their fists collided. Dear Lord. They HAD to get out of there! But it was sadly too late for Seth and Gretch. As they broke free and headed for the front door, to their horror they saw it had been locked and bolted shut. A large man was standing in front, licking his chops and shaking his head.   
  
Seth immediately grabbed Gretchen by the shoulders. "Ok, you have about 30 seconds to listen to me before this whole place turns... I'm Seth Gecko. I'm your bounty. I've got a gun on me, and I know how to take these fuckers out, but you have to do what I say, when I say it!" He shouted.   
  
"You're...? Oh Christ! I should have known. Damn me for being such a stupid fucking..."  
  
"No time! Gretch. Do you hear me? We have ZERO fucking time here. Now, this place has to have a back room somewhere. Help me find it, NOW!" He bellowed. He had shook her so forcefully she actually felt a twinge of pain in her spine.   
  
"But Jacob... Seth... there's something you need to know about me too!" Gretch shouted fearfully.   
  
"Not now!" He replied, grabbing her hand and practically dragging her across the dance floor toward the back corner of the bar. Sure enough, the dancers, band, employees, and some customers began to transform. God, they were so fucking beastly!  
  
"Seth, Seth! You REALLY need to know something!" Gretchen screeched. But it had fallen upon deaf ears, because dear Seth was now on a mission. They found the employee lounge with little effort. It was marked so on the door. They burst in, bolting shut the door with anything they could find... furniture, anything that wasn't nailed to the floor.   
  
"If this place is anything like the Twister, there should be a fucking arsenal back in here," Seth said, feeling a hint of encouragement that they were alone and for the moment, safe. They switched on the lights and located some old crates hidden in the back. They ripped them open and began rummaging through them like scavengers. Sure enough, there were plenty of guns and ammo to do the trick. "Lock and load, Gretch. No time to be a pansy now," he threatened.   
  
"I'm not a pansy anyways, Seth," she hissed, angered over the fact that she now needed the help of her bounty to get free. Her thoughts were racing. She had come to like him. No, she wouldn't be able to turn him in after this one. She only hoped the moonlight wouldn't catch her any time soon... 


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 (END)  
  
"So now that you know of my sordid past, Gretch, what did you wanna tell me?" Seth asked, loading an Uzi.  
  
Gretchen sighed. "It's a full moon tonight, buddy. You'll find out soon enough. There may be vamps out there, but there's a monster in here with you as well. I promise, I will kill as many of these things as possible, but if I turn, you gotta kill me too," she warned. "I only wanted a few drinks, dammit. I was gonna take off shortly before that band started playing..."  
  
"What are you saying, that you're one of them too?" He asked bitterly.  
  
"No! I'm something else. They can't handle the sun. I can't be out in a full moon."  
  
This was really psychotic. Psychos didn't explode when sunlight hit them; Seth didn't give a fuck how crazy they were. But a person who couldn't handle the moon's light? There was only one explanation for that. Hell, if Mexico was full of vamps, why not wolves as well?   
  
"You're a fucking werewolf," he announced. He didn't need to ask. He knew.  
  
"You got it, man. Sorry to break it to you this way," was Gretch's blank response. "The bondsman sent me in case you were one of THEM," she added.   
  
"I'm not a fucking vampire!" Seth insisted.   
  
"No, you're just a fucking liar," Gretch replied, a growl in her voice. "Come on, Geck. We got some beasts to slay." She had a gleam in her eye that was absolutely devilish. Seth wanted to ask her how she'd become a werewolf, but he dared not. Now was not the time to discuss such things. If they made it out alive, he would ask her then, afterward, along with her sign, favorite color, and what she would be doing the rest of her life... he'd grown quite fond of her. They would get a nice place in Baja and he'd simply hide her in the basement, chained every 28 days. That would be kosher. Hell, he'd been married before. Could being a werewolf be any less horrific than PMS? They were almost the same thing.  
  
Geck. He liked that nickname. Yes, she would have his permission to call him Geck if she so desired, if she helped him with all her might this evening. He had a feeling she would. She seemed straight up enough. They slowly opened the door after pulling off the barricades. They were strapped and fully armed with pistols, rifles, semi-autos, grenades, firecrackers, and a host of other weird weapons like wooden pencils, knives, and other stabbing objects. They were ready.  
  
"Bring on Round 2," Gretchen said, hissing between her teeth. She sounded utterly savage. Had Seth not been so dedicated to the slaying of these disgusting, vile creatures, he would have been turned on, dyke or not.  
  
Gretchen had a bow and arrow, cocked and ready to be shot at the first fuck who approached. They were in the dark hallway now and could see the contorted shadows of a few of them, slinking forward, their eyes glowing and teeth snarling. Seth suddenly had horrid flashbacks of the night at the Titty Twister. It was like a bad fucking rerun.   
  
One of them began to lunge toward Seth and Gretch shot the arrow directly into its heart. It fell back and exploded, scaring the others.  
  
"That's right, boys. You don't want NONE of this," spat Gretch, sounding more guttural and bestial by the minute.  
  
"Kill them all!" Seth screamed like a banshee. With that, they bounded up the hallway toward the vampires, shooting arrows and bullets, hurling knives and anything else they had. "Mother fuckers!" Seth shouted again, plowing bullets into the bar as they exited the hallway. "Die, you godless sons of bitches!"  
  
They made a great team. With little effort, they managed to smoke most of the beasts in a single sweep of bullets, arrows, and direct stabs. Seth grabbed one of the wooden tables and turned it upside-down, taking four vamps, one by one, piercing them with the legs as they landed face down, dead. He was a wild man, throwing them about like rag dolls. Sex Machine had taken out four of them in the same exact way. "THAT was for your ex-boyfriend!" Seth shouted to Gretch.  
  
Gretchen then took a large blade and sliced the throat of one of the bigger ones, sending his head clear across the bar. "And THAT was for your brother!" Gretch countered.  
  
When they'd run out of ammo, they started beating the shit out of the remaining vamps with the simple weight of the guns. Gretch was a cool fighting butch of a bitch; she knew karate and was using it freely. Her crescent kicks were simply divine, and in that black getup she resembled one of the X-Men. She never tired, and she fought with Seth, side by side. At one point they were back to back and he flipped her over his shoulders as she kicked wildly at one, sending it into a line of others, causing them to fall like dominoes. She landed facing Seth, in a split upon the ground, just like a gymnast. From between his legs she accurately hurled a knife at the leader of the "domino line", striking its chest. Dead on. TKO.   
  
"Good shot!" Seth acknowledged, feeling much more confident that there were less and less monsters walking about by the minute.  
  
"Thanks," Gretch roared, her voice now sounding positively primal. Her time was coming. Seth could feel it. He grew sad within his morbid excitement over smoking these beasts. He didn't want to have to smoke her as well.  
  
Reading his mind, she simply stated, "don't worry. The blood of a werewolf is deadly to a Nos Feratu. I turn, they won't be able to kill me. Just get the fuck out of the way when it happens... save yourself," she warned, feeling the first wave hit her. It was midnight. It was time. He lowered his hand to help her up. For some reason, despite the fact that she could hold her own, he wanted to be chivalrous.  
  
She began to buck and convulse. "Seth, keep them off me until the transformation!" She shrieked, her face horribly mutating as she morphed. She sounded as though she were being possessed by a demon... multiple voices emanating from her throat.   
  
"Easy girl, I got 'em," he assured, somewhat fearful of this process. But he stayed faithful, standing right by her side. He had this strange feeling that she wouldn't come after him when she turned.  
  
All of the vampires stopped dead in their tracks, about six of them (what was left), surrounding Seth on all sides. No escape. They watched in awe, dumbfounded, as Gretch began the metamorphosis. First it was her body. Her feet burst out of her leather boots, splitting them. They turned canine and they were huge, claws protruding. The six vamps gasped. Then, the rest of her body, in a swirling gust of sparks, smoke, and blue mist, exploded into the most fiendish, beastly hell hound Seth could ever had imagined. He had a weapon ready, just in case, but all the Gretch-Beast did was look his way and snarl a tiny growl, smiling a bit. She then made way for the vampires, now running the opposite way, shrieking with terror. No mercy. It took about five minutes for her to sever their heads from their bodies... their bites and scratches meaningless to her. It was done.  
  
Gretchen the wolf sat back on her hinds, guzzling the liquid body parts that remained. She gorged, snarled, then howled fiercely. Seth was now in awe. She seemed to have no interest in him whatsoever. Feeling fairly safe, after having checked and re-checked the entire building for any signs of survivors, he slumped himself upon the bare floor against the bloody wall. He was utterly exhausted.  
  
Gretchen then trotted over to him, just like a dog... a very big dog. She whimpered and whined as she sat next to him, resting her massive head in his lap. This was way fucking out there, but he still felt safe. He placed his hand on top of her neck and began to stroke her. She closed her eyes and within moments, snores were steadily escaping her bloody mouth. He leaned over and drifted to sleep upon her massive body. She was warm and actually protective.   
  
He awoke the next morning in much the same position, except Gretchen had become human again, and she lay naked in his lap. Her body was beautiful... somewhat tattooed, but divine. She stirred, stretching. Her mouth was still full of blood, her black lipstick having faded. She opened her eyes and looked toward him, smiling.   
  
He returned her smile, stroking her hair. "You didn't bite me," he stated sweetly. She smiled wider, giggling.  
  
"I'm so glad," she replied, looking dreamily upon him.   
  
They both laughed awkwardly. Then Seth took her by the shoulders, lifting her up to his face. "Um, I know this might be really bad timing, and you're probably not really in the market, considering you're a lez, and considering the fact that you turn into a wolf once a month, but..." he began, looking earnestly into her eyes, those big eyes that contained such beauty, spirit, and mystery.  
  
She pressed her bloody finger against his lips. She shook her head sweetly, smiling. Then, she took his face in her silky hands, leaning forward. She planted a long deep kiss upon his lips, and it most certainly was not the kiss of a woman who wanted only other women.   
  
"Wow," he uttered, taking hold of her hips as she straddled him. She laughed softly.  
  
"Why don't we discuss it over some coffee?" She asked with sheer sweetness.   
  
He leaned his head into hers and they looked upon each other with wanting and deep trust. "Come away with me?" He whispered. She nodded.  
  
Pulling her close to him, he heard her faint whisper. "Guess we're both fugitives now, Seth."   
  
"No, Gretch. I'm a fugitive. You're just the woman I happened to fall in love with, overnight." They kissed again, allowing their newfound joy to linger... however long it was destined to do so. They had a purpose now. They were bound by a sacred, unspoken truth. They were... the vampire hunters of Mexico, a man... and his she-wolf. Soon thereafter, Seth's partner in crime, life, and justice, would be Mrs. Gretchen Gecko. He was no longer ridden with emptiness. 


End file.
